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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426409">the small things matter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Jeujuejuejsu, M/M, i don’t really know anymore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:26:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John rearranges the flat, but when Sherlock comes home he shuts himself in his room.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the small things matter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have this idea that if John ever tried to rearrange the flat Sherlock would kinda get nervous and stressed because that is really the only calm and peaceful place in his life (his type of peaceful I mean) and the change would bother him deeply but he won’t admit that to John. So here’s a fic about that</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John hums as he pushes chairs around, dusting here and there as he goes. He wanted to change the apartment a bit, or at least try it out. He moves sherlocks chair next to his own, putting a small table in between. He hears the tea kettle rumble from the kitchen, knowing it will reveal it is done soon enough. </p><p>Sherlock fumbles with the key, hands cold from the bitter winter. He exhales and opens the door, expecting to be greeted by Mrs. Hudson. He was all he received was a quite hallway, with the faint shudder and freak of the floorboards above. He tenses, are those footsteps johns? Or are they somebody else’s? He sees no signs of forced entry, no scuffs on the floor that weren't there before, nothing out of place. </p><p>He was still wary as he stalked up the stairs, clenching his fists with each step.</p><p>He opened the door, half expecting moriarty to be sitting in his chair, but was greeted by a sight more menacing than any crime scene. </p><p>His worn leather chair was moved to accompany Johns squat faded cloth one. They had a coffee table in the middle, dusted and shining slightly. He glanced at the desk, his desk. It was pushed against the wall, papers littering the floor around its legs. A lamp was perched on the corner of the table, offering yellow light in the cold winter sun. He scans the room, noticing changes big and small scattered around the room.<br/>
“Sherlock!” John exclaims, seeing him in the doorway<br/>
“I didn’t hear you come in...” he trailed off, seeing his expression and stance.<br/>
“What’s wrong?”<br/>
Sherlock doesn’t respond and instead takes a shuddering breath and looks around the room once again, gaze settling for a few second on everything moved. He shuts the door and steps towards his room. He takes one last look at the room, a sad and stressed and clicks the door shut. </p><p>John becomes worried, a million possibilities running through his head. He hears soft mumbling from behind his door and knows that Sherlock is in his mind palace, that thought comforts him. </p><p>He comes to the realization that it was the furniture that upset him. John knows that this is the only place that Sherlock fees truly safe, no matter how illogical that feeling was. The sight of the room everyday calms him, and when he saw it had been moved and changed, he became worried and his mind felt cluttered.  </p><p>His tea sits cold and forgotten on the kitchen counter</p><p> </p><p>John grunted as he moved the couch back, legs bending at an odd angle as he stoops down to pick up a fallen book. The room becomes stiflingly hot, uncomfortable waves hitting johns arms. He strips off his sweater, having put it on after moving everything around for the first time. He rolls up the sleeves on his button up shirt, exposing muscled forearms. </p><p>He steps back, scanning the room for any displaced items. None. He walks toward sherlocks room, pausing ever so slightly to  consider wether he should interrupt him. He knocks on the door, and when he doesn’t answer<br/>
“Sherlock?”<br/>
A beat passes<br/>
Sherlock pushes the door open, expression a mask of calm.<br/>
“Yes John?”<br/>
“Would you like some tea?”<br/>
“Yes-”he says, now leaning on the doorway<br/>
John turns, allowing the taller man to fully see the room. The unchanged room. It was as it always was, chairs across from each other, desk piled high with notes. He sighs, knowing John did this for him. </p><p>They never spoke of this, it was an unspoken agreement. Well, until sherlock proposed.</p>
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